


Oral Experimentation

by androidbird



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Oral Fixation, Other, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Tension, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androidbird/pseuds/androidbird
Summary: Connor has been wondering about his oral components ever since Hank expressed distaste about him taking blood samples. What else could he do besides analyze blood? He could always look to his programming, but that wouldn't be any fun. (Post Revolution Buddy Cop-esque Hannor.)





	Oral Experimentation

**Author's Note:**

> This is a more experimental one shot to see how to write both Hank and Connor. I'm just getting back into writing fanfic, so bear with me if some of their dialogue is a little bit OOC!

ORAL EXPERIMENTATION.   
HANNOR: one shot (?)

Connor often wondered, and, since the revolution he’s been wondering about a lot of things that are discoverable amongst his intense programming, about his oral components. Hank seemed disgusted that he could analyze blood samples just by licking them off of his fingers, but Connor never really thought of it as being gross. He wondered, now, why it was not in his digits themselves, why he needed to consume a blood sample in order to analyze it. 

Connor experimented, knowing full well he could use his mind palace for things like this, but it was important to figure out the extent of his analyzing abilities if clues were found, such as liquids soaked into carpets that have no color or no potential odor, or anything of the sort. He tested various flavored waters, keeping his visual analysis on standby so he could have an unbiased test of different liquids. He asked Hank for sodas one day, not necessarily being able to taste them but distinguishing them based on how the syrup interacts with the added CO2, only letting them coat his tongue. Hank didn’t seem to argue, but got sick of buying things for Connor, one day asking him what it was he was using them for exactly, in those words.

Connor identified the pineapple passion flavor Hank buys from ‘Chicken Feed’ and opens his eyes, looking over at him quizzically. “I’m analyzing them.” Hank looks slightly irritated. “You’re telling me I’ve been buying you drinks just so you can do something you can do just as well with your eyes?” 

Connor thinks about apologizing, but doesn’t feel the need to as this was important to him. Hank begins drumming his fingers on his desk, waiting for a response but sighing and turning back to the report he was filling out on paper instead of on his computer. 

“It’s important to know the extent of my oral analysis. I’ve only ever used it for blood samples.” Connor finally says, and he takes another short sip of the pineapple passion flavor, feeling that the syrup density is much more than that of regular Cola or other fruit inspired (such as citrus) flavored beverages. This more in depth chemical analysis as opposed to caloric and nutritional analysis he could easily do visually was interesting. He knew he was not technically supposed to ingest things other than blood samples, but he could, he ran a diagnostic quickly just in case.

“And that doesn’t...damage you or something?” he looks at Connor’s mouth, slightly wet from the condensation building on the striped Chicken Feed straw, and partially open as he focuses on his diagnostic.

“Everything seems operational, are you worried about me Lieutenant?” Connor teases, his smile causes slight creases in his cheeks Hank finds extremely annoying. Androids are too damn realistic. He scoffs and the ink bleeds through his page as he presses even harder against his paper with his pen. He lifts his pen to his mouth subconsciously, reading the chart he had printed out, deciding whether or not the perpetrator of their last case showed any signs of mental instability/illness. He had become so accustomed to deviants that he wished humans had an LED showing mental processing. Hank could tell that the subject had some sort of anxiety disorder, he had a couple of ticks but he couldn’t think of the wording. 

He looks up briefly, and catches Connor staring. “What is it?” it comes out more intense than Hank would’ve liked. Connor actually looks startled “I was looking at your pen, you seem to chew on the end when you’re deep in thought, Mr.Anderson.” he says slowly, Hank hated when Connor analyzed him, since when was he so obsessed with mouths anyways? Hank lifts the pen from his mouth. “Can I ask you a question, actually?” Connor pipes up again, and Hank motions for him to continue. 

“What is it like? Tasting, eating? I know of different tastes but my analysis is only really for DNA and chemical purposes.” Connor asks, his curiosity so strong that his constant stream of thoughts slows, paying full attention to Hank, watching his pen yet again tap against his bottom lip. Connor feels something get ‘interrupted’ by watching this, and tilts his head, almost like a dog, but it goes away, he’s still not used to feeling things differently.

Hank continues to think, and then settles on this, “I’ve never thought about it, but there’s something that never gets…” he tries to use some stronger vocabulary “monotonous, about it. I can always look forward to enjoying something meaty, something sweet. Chewing can be a pain in the ass, sure, but that’s not really the point. You haven’t lived until you’ve been full of a dinner you know you’ve earned.” he says that fondly and pauses, face burning up as he realized Connor would never really experience that feeling. 

Connor looks puzzled, and holds the beverage in his hand, tracing a line from the lid to the middle of the cup with his thumb in the droplets that have collected on its surface. “I...I see.” he says, and continues to look down, trying to process this. “I can understand the satisfaction of earning something, I suppose.” he looks up after a moment and smiles at Hank to assure him that the comment did not offend him in any way. Eating is just another difference between androids and humans, Connor understood this, but was still determined to relate to Hank. 

Connor throughout the next days continued to experiment, but soon realized the extent of his abilities with liquids in particular when he was able to list off the entire nutritional facts label of a Cola just by letting it coat his tongue. He was beginning to desire something new to explore. He could always just access the details of his programming but ever since accepting his deviancy he found that to feel wrong. He decided to go to Hank again, finding their previous conversation helpful.

“Hank, if… I made a selfish request of you,” he rubbed his thumb over one of Sumo’s ears, “would you think about it?” 

Hank sat up in his chair at the table, looking over at Connor impatiently. Lately, Connor had been visiting him more, and Hank wasn’t getting impatient with him, rather with how Connor’s actions had been making Hank feel strange. He didn’t like that he enjoyed Connor’s presence so much. “Go ahead…” he says, a little hopeful it wouldn’t be something philosophical, Hank preferred questions he could answer. “Will you aid me in an experiment concerning my programming?” 

More mouth stuff? Hank felt his stomach flutter, and nodded. “Is there an issue? You’re being awfully compliant.” Connor wasn’t used to Hank not speaking. “No, no issue. What can I help you with?” Hank says, trying to imitate Connor’s more professional tone. 

Connor closes his eyes, and motions to his mouth with his hand “Could you... take an object, any in your kitchen and hold it up to my mouth? I’d like to see if I can identify it properly.” he smiles, realizing the humor in this situation. He hears Hank scoff as well, a little snort that only causes Connor’s smile to widen. 

“Sure, sure. Gimme a second” Hank wanders off to the kitchen, opening several drawers and deciding on a slightly larger metal fork. He holds it up to Connor’s lips and says “Ready” averting his eyes for a moment. Hank looks back, not being able to control himself, and watches Connor’s tongue dart out curiously, licking the base of the prongs and upwards. Hank breathes in sharply, something about the image of Connor with his eyes closed, licking a fork, burned his insides. 

“Ah” Connor says, a small noise that causes Hank to flinch, and he pulls the fork away, gripping it with white-knuckled fingers. “A stainless steel fork, mostly iron… 19% chromium to prevent rusting and 9% nickel…” his eyes flutter open and the LED on the side of his head goes from flashing yellow to blue in the matter of a second. He reads Hank’s temperature, higher than normal.

“Are you feeling well, Lieutenant?” He stands, a bit concerned. 

“Y-Yeah, you got all of that just from licking it?” Hank tries to play it cool but his heart won’t stop racing. Why did they have to give him such a nice mouth? 

Hank rubs his free hand over his own mouth and beard, biting his tongue a little. He shouldn’t be thinking of other places Connor could use his mouth. Connor suddenly, on a whim, grabs his wrist. “Wait, Hank.” Hank is startled by the use of his first name and his wrist being grabbed, trying to wrench it away but Connor’s grip is firm. “That scar on your hand, at the base of your index finger.” he pulls the hand closer to himself, closes his eyes once again and before Hank can do anything he feels the surprisingly wet sensation of Connor’s tongue right where he described. It flattens, and sort of explores the area, and Hank hisses, dropping the fork and covering his mouth. He pulls his hand back, unable to deny that it felt unusually good for someone just licking his hand. “Connor, jesus fucking christ…” he turns around, and paces, and when he looks back, Connor’s LED is yellow, and his facial expression shows concern. 

“What led you to grab a knife by its blade, Hank?” Connor says now, he seems all too unphased by what he just did. 

“Connor, you just licked my hand! I can feel that you know!” he pushes Connor forward, not hard, just enough to make himself feel better, more macho. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I really did not mean to upset you.” Connor though, feels that same interruption from before, seeing Hank breathing a little harder, bracing himself on the small table in his kitchen, palm on his chest. He steps forward, and adjusts his tie. “How did it feel…?” he asks, and he places his hand on the one Hank is using to keep himself on the table. Hank looks him in the eye, feeling embarrassed, turned on, and extremely pissed.

“Oh shut up, Connor.” Hank pulls his straightened tie forward, and instead of kissing Connor, places his lips on Connor’s neck, performing his own sort of experiment, sucking the skin there. 

It was electrifying, despite the literal electrical current that jolted through Connor’s thoughts, he gasped and gripped Hank’s arm, pulling at the fabric, his LED turning yellow. He bit his bottom lip, not used to this type of sensation and fell back a little bit, unsteady because the sudden reaction he had. Connor moans unconsciously as Hank’s teeth graze the artificial skin on his neck, wet and hot, the little bit of pain confusing but...arousing him? Connor didn’t think his particular model could feel aroused, was this his deviancy? He pulls back, and in a desperate voice “Hank, what was that?” 

Hank looks a little upset, tilting Connor’s chin to the left so he could see the results of his experiment. “So androids can’t get hickies. What a shame.” he smirks, and Connor is left in the kitchen as Hank goes to the bathroom, feeling extremely proud that he made an android moan.


End file.
